7  Poems About Children Growing Up

1. Amazing To See
   Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
   
   It is amazing to see
   How big they can be
   Yesterday so small
   Today so tall.
   
   Children grow up so fast
   Babies they don't last
   The years fly by
   It can make you sigh.
   
   But watching them grow
   Is like watching a show
   The ups and downs
   The tears and the clowns.
   But no matter what the age
   And no matter what the stage
   Our love for our child always grows
   They will always be our baby you know!




2. Children Are
   Poet: Herbert Hoover
   
   Children are the most wholesome part of the race,
   the sweetest, for they are the freshest from the Hand of God.
   
   Whimsical, ingenious, mischievous,
   they fill the earth with joy and good humor.
   
   We adults live a life of apprehension to what they think of us;
   a life of defense against their terrifying energy;
   a life of hard work to live up to their great expectations.
   
   We put them to bed with a sense of relief -
   and greet them in the morning with delight and anticipation.
   
   We envy them the freshness of adventure and the discovery of life.
   In all these ways, children add to the wonder of being alive.




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More poems about children:

Baby Poems

Poems about Children

Grown-Up Poem



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3. Story Telling
   Poet: Edgar A. Guest
   
   Most every night when they're in bed,
   And both their little prayers have said,
   They shout for me to come upstairs
   And tell them tales of gypsies bold,
   And eagles with the claws that hold
   A baby's weight, and fairy sprites
   That roam the woods on starry nights.
   
   And I must illustrate these tales,
   Must imitate the northern gales
   That toss the native man's canoe,
   And show the way he paddles, too.
   If in the story comes a bear,
   I have to pause and sniff the air
   And show the way he climbs the trees
   To steal the honey from the bees.
   
   And then I buzz like angry bees
   And sting him on his nose and knees
   And howl in pain, till mother cries:
   "That pair will never shut their eyes,
   While all that noise up there you make;
   You're simply keeping them awake."
   And then they whisper: "Just one more,"
   And once again I'm forced to roar.
   
   New stories every night they ask.
   And that is not an easy task;
   I have to be so many things,
   The frog that croaks, the lark that sings,
   The cunning fox, the frightened hen;
   But just last night they stumped me, when
   They wanted me to twist and squirm
   And imitate an angle worm.
   
   At last they tumble off to sleep,
   And softly from their room I creep
   And brush and comb the shock of hair
   I tossed about to be a bear.
   Then mother says: "Well, I should say
   You're just as much a child as they."
   But you can bet I'll not resign
   That story telling job of mine.




4. Make Childhood Sweet
   Poet: Unknown
   
   Wait not till the little hands are at rest
   Ere you fill them full of flowers;
   Wait not for the crowning tuberose
   To make sweet the last sad hours;
   But while in the busy household band
   Your darlings still need your guiding hand
   Oh, fill their lives with sweetness!
   
   Wait not till the little hearts are still
   For the loving look of praise;
   But while you gently chide a fault.
   The good deed kindly praise.
   The word you would speak beside the bier
   Falls sweeter far on the living ear:
   Oh, fill young lives with sweetness!
   
   Ah, what are kisses on clay-cold lips
   To the rosy mouth we press.
   When our wee one flies to her mother's arms
   For love's tenderest caress!
   Let never a worldly babble keep
   Your heart from the joy each day should reap.
   Circling young lives with sweetness.
   
   Give thanks each mom for the sturdy boys.
   Give thanks for the fairy girls;
   With a dower of wealth like this at home.
   Would you rifle the earth for pearls?
   Wait not for Death to gem Love's crown.
   But daily shower life's blessings down.
   And fill young hearts with sweetness.
   
   Remember the homes where the light has fled.
   Where the rose has faded away
   And the love that glows in youthful hearts.
   Oh, cherish it while you may!
   And make your home a garden of flowers.
   Where joy shall bloom through childhood's hours.
   And fill young hearts with sweetness.




5. Parenthood
   Poet: John Farrar
   
   The birches that dance on the top of the hill
   Are so slender and young that they cannot keep still,
   They bend and they nod at each whiff of a breeze,
   For you see they are still just the children of trees.
   
   But the birches below in the valley are older,
   They are calmer and straighter and taller and colder.
   Perhaps when we've grown up as solemn and grave,
   We, too, will have children who do not behave!







6. How Soon We Lose Them
   Poet Unknown
   
   Hold diligent converse with thy children! have them
   Morning- and evening round thee; love thou them,
   And win their love in these rare, beauteous years;
   
   For only while the short-lived dream of childhood
   Lasts are they thine — no longer! When youth comes
   Much passes through their thoughts, -which is not thou,
   And much allures their hearts, - which thou hast not.
   
   They gain a knowledge of an older world
   Which fills their souls; and floats before them now
   The future. And the present thus is lost.
   Then with his little traveling-pocket full
   Of indispensables, the boy goes forth.
   
   Weeping, thou watchest till he disappears,
   And never after is he thine again!
   He comes back home - he loves - he wins a maid -
   He lives! They live, and others spring to life
   From him; and now thou hast in him,
   
   A human being, but no more a child!
   Thy daughter, wedded takes a frequent joy
   In bringing thee her children to thy house!
   Thou hast the mother, but the child no more!
   
   Hold diligent converse with thy children! have them
   Morning and evening round thee; love thou them,
   And win their love in the rare, beauteous years.




7. Got To Understand
   Poet Unknown
   
   Got to understand the lad -
   He’s eager to be bad.
   Were he now exceeding wise,
   He’d be just about your size.
   When he does things that annoy,
   Don’t forget—he’s just a boy.
   
   Could he know and understand,
   He would need no guiding hand,
   Doesn’t know from day to day
   There is more in life than play,
   More to face than selfish joy.
   Don’t forget—he’s just a boy.
   
   Being just a boy, he’ll do
   Much you will not want him to.
   He’ll be earless of his ways,
   Have his disobedient days,
   Things of value he’ll destroy,
   But reflect—he’s just a boy.
   
   Just a boy who needs a friend -
   Patient, kindly to the end;
   Needs a father who will show
   Him the things he wants to know.
   His companionship enjoy.
   Don’t forget—he’s just a boy.